


Star Gazing

by CobaltPhosphene



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Era, Contains Four-point-five percent Alcohol, Fluff, M/M, Mention of PTSD symptoms, Nobody Goes To Iceland In The Winter Except These Badasses, Not Vegan or Vegetarian Friendly and May Also Contain Gluten, Some background NPCs die but no one cares, Tiny drop of angst as garnish here and there, Tobacco Use? In My Neighborhood? It's More Likely Than You Think, Warning: Fic Contains Hákarl, fluff fluff fluff, overt flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 13:58:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13078326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CobaltPhosphene/pseuds/CobaltPhosphene
Summary: A McReyes Gift Exchange fic wherein Reyes and McCree undertake an undercover mission where they pose as a couple. Silliness and seriousness ensues.





	Star Gazing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rosewrought](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosewrought/gifts).



The scratch-and-hiss flare of the flint wheel kissing flame always was a pretty sound in Jesse McCree's reckoning. It's why he loved vintage lighters over the new overly sleek electronic ones more widely available. The new ones were so damn impersonal, didn't let you just enjoy the moment—it rushed impatiently to the nicotine high, instead of savoring it. The smooth glossy flats and the well-aged engraved marks of the stainless steel brushed over even through the leather of his gloves was always a moment of tactile enjoyment for him, bringing out a ghost of a smile to haunt his lips. Lighting up was in itself a ritual, warming the tobacco evenly, feeling the cigar shift with the slow roll of his fingers, watching the cut edge of the rolled leaves catch and curl black in the flame. Sucking in that first mouthful of smoke, he savored the brief prelude of a taste that bathed his tongue in sweet, soft spice, breathing it out in a perfunctory little puff before continuing with the next few little inhales, all part of making sure the cigar was evenly lit all proper-like. Then he took his first _real_ mouthful and let it out, real slow, tipping his head back and shutting his eyes. That soft, sweet creaminess of a good mild habana was coming in right about then. He kicked up his legs, crossing them to lay them at rest up on the railing, settling back into his chair a little more comfortably. The relaxation was starting to seep in, habit and tradition leading the tension to unwind with this gorgeous little montecristo number, as he always did after a mission. Nobody'd come looking for him up here to socialize, and that was just fine with him. He needed his alone time, just like anyone, and here he could just enjoy the cool evening air layering nice and crisp against the mellow heat of the smoke upon his breath, and relax.

Then there was a heavy SLAM of booted feet on the ground right beside him that nearly scared Jesse right out of his skin, whipping about onto his own feet, gun drawn with his finger on the trigger and ready to shoot—

Reyes. That grinning, smug bastard was standing there, staring down the barrel of a fully loaded revolver, waiting patiently for Jesse's perception to catch up with reality.

Jesse let his gun flick down, shoving it back into its holster with a frustrated growl that he managed to smooth into words, “Hell of a way to test reflexes Reyes.” He was known _for_ his trigger finger speed, not for fucking hesitating. Jesus fucking christ on a stick, but his heart was busy knocking on the interior of his rib cage, just to make sure he was aware of the recent scare _._ At least he still had his cigar in his mouth. That would've ruined his night, had he dropped it on account of Reyes' dramatic entrance.

Reyes just laughed, crossing his arms and tilting his head up at the sky, bold as life itself in the bright sunset light. “I've faith in you.”

“Thanks. 's real heart warming to hear that from you,” Jesse replied dryly, but it _did_ soothe his ruffled pride somewhat, diverting the sulk he had lined up in response to the interruption of his repose.

“One tries. How are you doing?” Reyes asked.

Jesse took a moment, inhaling another puff of smoke, speaking through the aromatic wispy curls flowing around his words and tongue, “Fine enough, enjoying the evening air and all that. Should've checked the weather though I reckon, didn't think there was much of a chance of it raining men what with the clear skies, but shows what I know.”

That made Reyes laugh, and Jesse smiled just a bit to see it, eyeing his commander dryly for a moment before continuing, “So what's the impromptu heart attack simulation for? I'm reckoning it wasn't just a _hello, nice to see you back safe and sound_ greeting now was it.” Reyes knew him too well to simply pull this kind of b.s. on a whim...but then again, Reyes could be enough of a tease to do it anyway just to mess with him.

Reyes snorted, but declined to comment on the heart attack line.

Jesse'd passed his physical with flying colors, despite his incessant smoking habit. Which was why he liked to make sure none of the other Blackwatchers were unaware he could keep up with or outpace the majority of them when running laps, just to make sure they didn't forget. It gave him a smug sense of satisfaction, despite his lungs' protests.

****************

Ultimately, it might have been just a greeting, if McCree had not appeared well and sound. But McCree's eyes were bright, and he was all _here,_ fully present, engaged, and aware with the here and now. Gabriel rather hoped his own eyes didn't betray that he wasn't really in tip-top condition. McCree hadn't mentioned anything like that yet if he had noticed. But that was neither here nor there. He wasn't the one being vetted right now—and he had the perks of rank to decide if he wanted to be vetted or not, so long as no one ratted him out to Dr. Ziegler again.

Right now though, McCree seemed to be in particularly good spirits. Sometimes McCree wasn't all there, after a mission. Usually it was after the ones that went bad, but there'd been a few good ones that McCree...didn't come all the way back from, right away. Gabriel understood why. They all understood why.

Mandatory psych evaluations were all well and good, and McCree wasn't unhinged...just coping. He coped better than quite a few in their line of work, without dispute, but that didn't necessarily mean McCree didn't have his own problems—they all did.

And one of Gabriel's problems was that McCree's preferred coping methods were not designed in the interest of a long and healthy life. But those were not the root of the matter. Rather, it was a matter of what the coping mechanisms sprung from.

_That_ was a multifaceted matter, and one he has turning over and examining over time, through the lens of McCree's words, actions and choices. Sometimes this involved tests, some official and blatantly obvious, some impromptu and discreetly inconspicuous.

This was one of the latter instances. McCree had passed the first little examination, and Gabriel had decided he was sound enough to offer him the mission slot. The other decision, he would hold onto until after they had sorted the op out.

“New mission on short notice.” Short notice indeed, Gabriel had been hoping for a breather for a week or two, but this might still be low-stress enough to afford some wiggle room. “It's merc work, but our cover branch got the request based on referral. It all checks out, and there's a healthy number of zeroes on that check, both the advance pay and afterwards.”

Gabriel shifted his weight onto his back leg, crossing his arms contemplatively. “If we swing it right, we'd also be able to influence the political landscape in our favor in certain circles abroad. It'd require shipping out this coming Thursday for a minimum of three weeks, possibly more.”

He paused there, gauging McCree's reaction so far—the other man was listening attentively, the puffs of cigar smoke slow and unhurried, and the lines of his posture were relaxed more so than earlier. That was good so far.

Gabriel grinned.

****************

This instantly made Jesse suspicious, eyes narrowing as the corners of his mouth curled upwards in a matching smile he couldn't resist. It was that damning smile Reyes wore, all teeth and mischief, that invariably meant the best kinds of trouble were to follow—but they were trouble nonetheless.

“Why you smiling, Reyes?” Jesse asked, amused, curious, and exasperated that this never failed—he always wanted to know what had the boss smiling, because it was always something interesting.

The smile of suspicion on Jesse's face just prompted Reyes to crack up laughing again.

“Oh come on now, it's gotta be something good if you're laughing before you've even told me a thing about it.” Jesse said in protest, even while he was trying hard not to laugh—he didn't even know what was going on yet.

“It's a bait and switch mission. We'll have a pair of agents visibly posing as the clients with another team shadowing our people from afar as security, foil any possible assassination attempts, and undertake an assassination of our own if the opportunity presents itself.”

Alright, sounded cut and dry, with about five ways to Sunday for things to go pear-shaped, which was par for the course. Of course, that didn't explain what was so damn funny. “Alright, I'll bite. What's the bad news?”

“If impersonating the favorite younger son of a crime lord plus the young man's lover while on vacation for three weeks is your idea of bad news, I'm curious what good news counts as.” Reyes said mildly, still clearly amused.

“Assassinations notwithstanding,” Jesse drawled, tone as dry as sun-bleached bone.

“Assassinations notwithstanding,” Reyes said with an incline of his head, the angle not really doing anything to hide the amused smile on his face—not that Jesse was bothering to hide his own grin either.

“Well now, that sounds like a grand old time, depending on the company,” Jesse mused, turning the idea over in his head. He could see why Gabriel was laughing now, Captain Amari and the Strike Commander would be getting more grey and white hairs respectively with this kind of stunt—not because of the danger, so much as the theatrical nature of it all. It had the stamp of Reyes' love of dramatics all over it, because of course he'd hone in on the fun missions that'd make for a worthy story afterwards. “You asking me or telling me to go on this one?” He inquired.

“Asking. You want this one? It's either you or Edwards for the boyfriend role, and Edwards'll be mourning cutting his hair for months if he has to go. If neither of you want it, Caruso's volunteered as a last resort.”

“Good lord, what'd you bribe Caruso with to get him willing to step up for that? He can't act worth beans,” Jesse laughed.

“He can't act _sober,_ no, but get him tipsy and he's actually decent at it.” Reyes pointed out.

That got Jesse's attention. “Oh, we're drinking on this trip then?”

Reyes grinned. “I thought that little detail might interest you. Yes, you're supposed to be indulging with reasonably decadent excess while on vacation, since that's what the clients would do naturally. They've basically given us carte blanche for vacation expenses, on top of the payment for the job itself.”

Jesse whistled long and low. “Alright, I'll admit, that sounds mighty fine as a setup...which means you're withholding information. _Who_ exactly is our generous client, and what's the catch?”

****************

Gabriel laughed—he liked that about McCree, the man kept the bigger picture in mind without getting distracted by shiny distractions. “Isaias Santangelo, from down south. He's from one of the middle-tier cartels, and he's sure his older brother's going to try to move against him and his lover Alejandro on this trip. We'll be feeding the older brother false information to lull him into a false sense of security and bait him out, and that means staying in character for the majority of the time, both in private and out in the more public spaces. Communication with the rest of the team will be limited.”

McCree groaned a bit, leaning back against the railing and stretching out his legs in front of him for a long moment, before crossing them and settling back into rest. “I hate undercover missions.”

Gabriel smirked, but said nothing.

A slightly deeper inhale, and McCree tilted his head back to puff the smoke upwards, watching it curl through the air pensively for a long moment. “So let me guess,” He said, rolling his head to one side as he shot a wry look coupled with a crooked smile at Gabriel, “I have to break out a fake accent and pretend to be the hot as fuck boy toy lover on some lucky agent's arm.”

That made Gabriel press his lips together to suppress a laugh, though the merriment still snuck through into his response. “That's the gist of it, yes. If you take the assignment.”

Another slow, unhurried smoke cloud drifted up and away between the two of them. “Is it a LOT of zeroes attached to that check?”

Gabriel smiled, and named a figure that McCree, in perfect form, had absolutely no reaction to for the first ten seconds—the other man simply sat there, looking at Gabriel, letting the smoke plume waft up from his cigar unimpeded.

Then, McCree let his head fall back against the railing again with a groan, before taking another puff. “This had better be a fucking fantastic vacation, and a fucking hilarious story in the years to come.”

“It'll be a relative cakewalk—you can go ahead and have your cake and eat it too.”

That had McCree's head up then. “I'm expecting fucking amazing cake out of this.”

“We can get a veritable buffet of cake through room service,” Gabriel promised, “just don't make yourself sick again.”

McCree held up a finger, looking stern. “Hey now, that was the one time, and was as much Sinclaire's fault as mine, and it was pizza. You can't hold pizza against us.”

Oh, the relish of victory. Gabriel smirked, the smuggest bastard to ever walk the earth right in that moment. “Yes I can, and yes I will.”

“Oh now that's just hypocritical coming from the guy who was up on the bar alongside the rest of us.”

“The guy who was up on the bar alongside you and who won the challenge you mean,” Gabriel corrected. “I told you the trick was to fold the pizza before you ate it. But no upside down pizza eating shenanigans on this trip, I don't want to have to drag your ass to the ER and explain why Alejandro decided to glut himself on takeout. That'd be potentially problematic.”

“...” McCree raised his eyebrows then, cigar held out midair as a thought occurred to him. “Hold on now, are you coming on this trip personally then?”

Ah, the penny dropped. He'd been waiting for McCree to catch onto that in his wording. It sidestepped having to state it outright—telling McCree wasn't the problem then, so much as the follow up examination McCree might give of his emotional tells, or lack thereof. And Gabriel very specifically didn't want McCree to read his tells before he'd decided just what he wanted to show or conceal. The other man was a little too sharp at times, in that regard. “If we can't get Santiago squared away, I'll be stepping in to fill the role.” He tilted his head slightly, considering McCree for a moment. “Sound good?”

****************

Jesse grinned wide, the smile slanted to one side like the brim of his hat, just the way he liked it. “Oh that'll do fine...right after I knock Santiago out and hide him in a closet somewhere.”

“And here I thought you were all about helping people out of the closet with your charming ways, how misleading of you,” Reyes laughed, teasing. “Poor Santiago, he just got himself out of the closet recently too.”

“He'll be fine, I'll make sure it's the snack stash closet I stuff him into.” Jesse was sure Reyes was doing something—but then the man was always doing something. He didn't need Jesse's approval for the mission ops though, and wasn't asking for it. Sounding out his opinion then? That meant something else was afoot, with yet another layer of their cat and mouse game of trying to outguess the other.

There was so much Reyes didn't _say_ until one asked the right question at times. It could drive a man to drink, trying to catch the commander in all his little games. Sometimes it did drive Jesse to drink—mostly while puzzling over some cryptic throwaway line that Reyes had said.

Reyes just gave him a wry look. “Bribery won't keep a man where he doesn't want to be for long, McCree.”

“Hey now, the snack stash's where we all keep the good stuff. The best parties happen in that there closet.” Jesse said. And if that wasn't the summation of Blackwatch in its entirety and ethos, he didn't know what was.

“Right next to the specialty munitions and back up equipment, as opposed to in the break room where snacks are supposed to be stashed.”

“Well I don't see _you_ putting your foot down in an actual objection to it now do I Reyes,” he smirked—Reyes was a sneaky devil at the best of times, but McCree knew where some of those snacks disappeared off to. “Those soft pretzels don't just get up and walk off by themselves.”

That got a deadpan expression from Reyes that was a deflection and a denial if Jesse ever saw one, judging by the twinkle in Reyes' eye. “No real need to object, since all the munitions are inert.”

And oh didn't that bring back memories with the exploding condiments incident with Sunny. Jesse turned his head to one side, coughing a laugh behind the back of one hand. Sometimes he could still smell the ghostly aroma of cooking hot dogs wafting around that part of base.

Now the real question was whether he was distracting Reyes from whatever he was sidestepping, or if Reyes was distracting him. But he didn't feel much like poking that topic, if Reyes wasn't going to bring it up yet—the commander always brought up the important parts eventually. Jesse didn't always agree with Reyes' choice of approach, but the reasoning was always sound. It was comfortable, trusting the other man. He would let this sleeping dog matter lie. Reyes certainly let Jesse's share of matters lie quiet between them when the ghosts came back to visit for their due—time alone, to himself and off base when he had the accrued leave, just like all the rest of the agents, when Reyes could've kept him on lock down or under watch.

Reyes trusts him. The evidence is in the missions and freedoms and other, littler things gained over time, like how Reyes lets him see his tells instead of stonewalling and poker-facing him like Jesse knows Reyes could. It's something Jesse's known for a long while, but hadn't put it in words until now. The thought makes him smile as he pulls in another mouthful of cigar smoke, breathing it out into the evening air as easy as you please. Easier still is the quiet lapse in the conversation as he settles in further for his evening leisure, and Reyes ambled on over to sit beside him, the two of them enjoying the sweeping landscape view afforded to them from on high.

“Everything alright then?” Jesse asked, and at Reyes' inquiring look, he waved a hand about vaguely. “With this mission, in general, and all that usual stuff.”

Reyes hummed, eyes sliding back to the horizon in that forever-away distant place of aspirations and tomorrows-to-be, and through the lens of that moment, Jesse watched the time of could-be's spin from future to present and past, watched as the other man came to a decision. “Just apprehension and all that.” He leaned his head back, looking at Jesse eye to eye now. “I want to make sure you and Santiago—if he goes—are comfortable with this. We can always find more paying jobs to replace this one if it sits uneasily with either of you, and I don't want either of you getting mentally tied up in knots because you felt you had to take this mission.” That's never happened on _his_ watch, but he's heard stories. He doesn't want his agents to have to deal with more than they already do, in their line of service. They wouldn't come out unscathed from Blackwatch work, just as soldiers didn't come out unscathed from war, but he wanted them to come back in both body and mind. Bringing them back physically but leaving behind pieces of their minds because the mission had been rotten was a form of abandonment he didn't abide. And he didn't want Jesse to leave pieces of himself behind, for Blackwatch or anything else if it could be helped.

Jesse grinned a crooked grin, shifting to give Reyes a reassuring shoulder bump. “Aww, come on now commander, we're adults. We can talk about our feelings like grown men. I got no problem with playing the hot-piece-of-arm-candy boyfriend for a romantic weekend getaway at an all expenses paid resort, for you or Santiago.”

****************

“So long as you're sure, then,” Gabriel said, his mood easing slightly at the shoulder bump. “If you change your mind at any point and want to stop and pull up stakes, let us know. It'd be better to know sooner rather than later, and before the ops, if you can.”

So long as McCree knew he had an out and was sure he wanted to do this, then that was that.

McCree in the meanwhile tilted his head, peering at Gabriel from beneath the brim of his hat with a curious eye. “I'm good, but are you alright there, Reyes? You're fussing about this mission way more than usual.”

The corners of Reyes' mouth turned down in a moue of distaste. “I don't like these kinds of missions much. They can get uncomfortably close to some of the lines I draw with regards to what I'm willing to let my agents field, though this one should be relatively tame.” He very much preferred ops that had both he and his agents operating like ghosts—no evidence left behind to say they were ever there. More social, visible operations were more Jack and Ana's forte.

The corners of McCree's eyes crinkled as he grinned wide, clearly and openly amused. “You know, when people imagine shadow organizations like Blackwatch, they usually picture tough as nails, grim and gritty people willing to do anything it takes to keep the world safe. Always made for a rather dystopian worldview, in my opinion.”

“Glad to see you're tickled pink by my prima-donna-posturing,” Gabriel said, tone as dry as a desert. That was an old topic he'd had his doubts about more than once. There were a lot of things he was willing to do, but there were things he simply wouldn't do, and wouldn't ask of his agents.

“I'll make sure to bring roses for you as a congratulations on your stellar performance milady,” McCree had the cheek to tip his hat with one hand towards Gabriel then, eyes twinkling all the while.

“I'll send you off with my autograph in thanks then,” Gabriel responded dryly.

McCree laughed. “In all seriousness though, if Santiago and I are alright with this, are you alright with it Reyes?”

“Yeah,” an honest answer, he did feel alright with it so long as his agents were alright with it. “I'm good with it then.”

“Alright. So on to the more important question: are you good with the idea of kissing _me?_ ” McCree asked, throwing in a suggestive eyebrow waggle on top of a self-assured smirk.

Well that was a step bolder than McCree usually went. The man was a flirt all across the board, and a charming one at that, but as far as Gabriel could recall, McCree had never been this forward with him, at least. But then, they were potentially teaming up to go on a mission that had them posing as a couple. With that fact of the matter on the table, he was going to simply assume the flirting was no more than that, then. That didn't mean he couldn't flirt and banter right back, of course, so long as he respected the fact that McCree might not mean anything by it. “Oh, I don't know about that. Are _you_ good with the idea of kissing me?”

“Oh I might be. Would have to have a test run to see if I like it, if you know what I mean,” McCree said, grinning widely.

“Well since you asked,” Gabriel said, the corner of his mouth quirked upwards in amusement as he plucked McCree's hat from the other man's head with one hand and looped his other arm around McCree's middle to swing him down into a dramatic dip as he kissed him—light, sweet and chaste. If he was going to be kissing McCree, he might as well go the full nine yards for effort. He could feel the beginnings of a smile tugging at the corners of McCree's mouth as he pulled away, setting McCree on his feet again. He then settled McCree's hat back on his head, tilting it at just the right angle as he'd seen McCree do a hundred thousand times.

****************

“Well now, aren't you full of surprises?” Jesse said, his grin all the wider, and his eyes all atwinkle at the nice little surprise, and from his own amusement. He'd honestly been expecting Reyes to keep the flirting banter going back and forth like a game of gay chicken. But he liked this outcome a whole lot better, by far.

Before now, Reyes had been so conservative in all of his previous responses to Jesse's flirtations, Jesse had backed off for the most part. It wasn't that Reyes read as disinterested—the commander had absolutely no issue saying no if he wanted to say no. But it wasn't clear what Reyes wanted, at least not yet.

“Comes with the territory.” Reyes said wryly as he sat back, once again at comfortable conversational distance. “I'm assuming you're packing some breath mints for the trip—cigar breath's not so bad, compared to cigarette breath certainly, considering you're mid-smoke. Santiago's fussier about tastes and smells, so if he goes I expect it'll be something he'll quibble about on the way over.”

“I'm surprised you don't mind it as much, even other smokers usually don't like smoke-flavored kisses fresh from a pull,” Jesse commented, inhaling another mouthful as he watched Reyes carefully.

Reyes tilted his head, regarding Jesse with a faintly amused look. “I've dated a smoker before, but she smoked cigarettes. I actually kind of liked the smell, so it might be that it's partly previous exposure, partly inclination. Your cigar smoke smells better though, I will say that.”

Jesse snorted then. “Should darn well hope so, this is the good stuff, not the cheap off the rack gas station selection, see?” He turned the stick to show Reyes the band's understated but clearly quality label. “Montecristo no. 2, a nice smooth little number with a good creamy finish. A real cigar's something to savor, not just get a nicotine hit off of.” His grin deepened just a touch as an opportunity for mischief came to his attention. “And _dating,_ hm? That what this is, sweetheart?”

“That's classified need-to-know information only, McCree,” Reyes said with a straight face. “I'll need to check your credentials—that requires a dating level five with a minimum number of romantic briefings cleared.”

“And about three passwords and input codes to get past all those security belts on your pants, hm?” Jesse said with a mischievous smirk.

Reyes just looked at him, smug as sin and trying not to smile too much. “Biometric hand scanner for approved parties only, actually.”

That just made them both crack up laughing at that point. As they calmed down, Jesse looked at Reyes—they hadn't moved apart after the kiss, and it was much easier to see the fine details of Reyes's features this close, including the faint shadows under the other man's eyes.

When Reyes met his gaze again, Jesse gave the other man a knowing look. “Joking aside, you're looking a bit tired, Reyes. You skipping sleep again?”

“...” The silence was telling, and made Jesse narrow his eyes just a tad in good humor at how Reyes pointedly held his gaze, but said absolutely nothing. The man owned up to it in his own way, at least.

“When's the last time you remember sleeping, boss?” He asked, gauging how tired Reyes might be. Admittedly, Reyes had insane tolerance and endurance for stresses and strain, probably thanks in no small part to being a super soldier—or so Jesse assumed, some people were just naturally made out of decentanium without genetic augmentation admittedly—but even super soldiers had to sleep on a regular basis. It wasn't healthy, even if Reyes could tolerate it better than the average person. The damn thing about both Morrison and Reyes was that they didn't _show_ signs of being tired until they'd run themselves ragged far more than a normal human should withstand. Reyes probably hadn't slept for at least three days if he was starting to show.

“...” The pause as Reyes inclined his head to think was comical enough to make Jesse sputter a laugh, at which the other man raised his head and fixed him with a faux-stern look.

“I don't mean to laugh, but lord almighty, Reyes.” Jesse said, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his own ear idly. “Been a bad week then?”

Reyes just shrugged then. “Same old same old. Tried that new milk tea Ana suggested earlier this month, and it seemed to work alright...I just didn't want to sleep.” He glanced away at that.

Jesse didn't push. “You can always come find me if you want late night quiet company while you're catching up on paperwork, you know. I don't usually sleep right the first few nights back after a mission anyway.” Jesse offered. He tended to sleep lighter when his body still thought it was on the move, rather than in the same bed each night, making for an earlier rising time. It had its ups and downs, but nothing forty winks couldn't fix.

“You do seem to end up on the training range at godawful hours,” Reyes commented wryly.

Jesse just gave an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “That's the pot calling the kettle black now isn't it.”

That got a snort from Reyes in kind. “It is. But thank you. I'll take you up on that offer one of these days. You got any recommendations and tips for starter cigars to try out though? Isaias smokes, but I don't.”

Jesse grinned real wide then. “Is that the sound of bonding time I hear? I think it is. You came to the right guy. Come on, I've got a few in my room that're mild enough for a good first try.” He stood up, offering Reyes a hand up and pulling the other man to his feet before leading him away. And who knew, Reyes might even get into casual cigar smoking afterwards. It'd be nice to have good company while out on smoke breaks.

****************

****************

It was actually a rather pleasant prep week leading up to the launch window, all in all. He ended up spending quite a lot of time with Reyes throughout it, discussing little technicalities, running through theoretical scenarios, practicing their accents and putting little acting habits into place for the trip. They also practiced some kissing here and there, in the name of familiarizing themselves for the mission, of course. He still didn't know if Reyes got enough sleep, but he seemed to be getting _some_ sleep at least. It would've been better if Reyes had spent a little less time planning, and a little more time sleeping, but never let it be said the boss wasn't thorough.

Jesse wouldn't have bothered with quite as much attention to detail as Reyes put into the preliminary questions regarding likes, dislikes, boundaries, and whatnot, but the boss kept it all brief without getting caught up in it. While it took the unknown element out of the whole matter, he was in good hands. It kept things nice, neat and sweet.

“No, I'm good with most things,” He said as they went down the list of questions. “Hair stroking's nice, giving or receiving, same with hand holding, shit like that. I'm also good with cuddling in whatever compromising or innocent position you can dream up. Bit ticklish on my sides and the soles of my feet, but that's nothing out of the ordinary. You?”

“Same,” Reyes responded, twisting half around and indicating the lower half of his spine with a hand, “Should point out that this portion of my back's sensitive too though—got some old scars back there. So don't go running a hand up or down that part of my spine unless you want me to jump half a foot up into the air.”

“Oh really?” Jesse of course did exactly that thing.

Reyes, true to his word, hunched up his shoulders in reflex whilst immediately jumping away with a exasperated exclamation of “ _JESSE PLEASE.”_

Ah, music to his ears. Whenever Reyes called him Jesse, it usually meant he'd gotten Reyes out of his lane just enough to react without thinking about the matter five different ways to Sunday.

“Oooo, but I do like how you scream my name,” Jesse was grinning a patented Evil Grin™ now—a skill he had perfected from watching Reyes ham it up in all of his usual dramatics. He held up his fingers, wiggling them threateningly as he reached out for Reyes' spine. “C'mere you.”

Reyes had the nerve to narrow his eyes and smirk in that crooked way that Jesse knew was an imitation of his own smirk. “You'll never take me alive gunslinger,” He drawled, matching Jesse's accent to a T, before dashing away, cackling evilly like a regular Witch Hazel.

Naturally the only thing to do was to give chase, even if Reyes WAS an enhanced super soldier with ridiculous amounts of stamina to his name. Jesse knew he wasn't going to catch him, but it was the principle of the thing that mattered. The other principle of the matter was not getting caught acting like school kids at recess by their coworkers, leading both of them to immediately adopt a casual walking pace the instant a passerby came into view. The pursuit continued at walking pace then, and however long Reyes' legs were, Jesse's were just as long. It was a game they stretched out over a few days, as it turned out. It often devolved into finding themselves in each other's arms, casually holding onto one another as they bantered on. And that was perfectly fine with Jesse.

It made him feel younger than he was, like a teenager again—or more precisely, like the teenager he never was, stealing little kisses casually, surprising one another with an arm around the waist and a brush of lips against a cheek—he probably shouldn't have been surprised that Reyes seemed to lean more towards being a romantic. It fit with the dramatic inclinations, without a doubt, for all that they served a purpose (or three). Jesse never would've conflated practical with romantic, but there went Reyes, making the two terms seem interchangeable. Still, it'd be nice to get the drop on Reyes and surprise him somehow as payback for stealing the initiative of that first kiss on the roof. He'd have to watch for an opportune moment for a sweet little taste of revenge.

As the week progressed, Santiago excused himself, as expected, and Reyes was confirmed for the mission slot. It felt almost like a throwback to some other time or some other life with how they packed their luggage with more of a mind towards actual civilian comfort, rather than leaning more heavily towards mission necessities. His hip felt almost too light to not have Peacekeeper's solid presence there, and Jesse was sure Reyes was missing his shotguns. Instead he had his phone tucked away in his pocket, plugged into a pair of headphones for the long flight overseas. He made a face when he saw the destination—he'd known, of course, since Reyes had told him to pack for the weather, but this was far and away from his idea of ideal vacation spots.

People were perfectly welcome to disagree with him on that, of course. He was, however, still going to consider them just a tad bonkers in his heart of hearts for wanting to go to the more extreme—in his opinion—places of the world. What was wrong with a nice, warm, sunny beach?

They were flying first class to the switch over point as an added bonus, still all covered by their client's carte blanche, and the little misgivings he had about the mission were mollified by the Viennese coffee service—with little personal bundt cakes. He swatted Reyes' shoulder good-naturedly when the other man gave him a look that clearly contained withheld laughter.

There were going to be a lot of cakes as a recurring joke on this trip, he could see it already.

Riding first class certainly was comfier than riding in the back of an air carrier. Nothing against air carriers, of course—Jesse did enjoy the finer things in life once in awhile, but he didn't crave the high life in all its glittering high rolling glory. Occasional notes of it as accents to a day were more than enough for a man like him. And never let it be said men like him didn't enjoy a little extra wiggle room when flying, if only for height accommodation. He could tell Reyes certainly enjoyed the extra leg room as well though, given how he stretched out in the seat beside him.

They arrived at the midway point, picking up their luggage and wheeling it casually into the spacious bathrooms to change. They'd prearranged the matter, but intel did confirm that Isaias and Alejandro were dressed in the attire they'd all agreed upon. Two minutes after their clients had walked into the bathroom, Jesse and Reyes strolled on out, all according to plan—in another life, they could have been decent actors. Or, on the days when the universe was feeling puckish, stunt doubles.

Reyes turned to look at Jesse, the amused twinkle in his eye forestalling further thoughts on the matter. “Ready, mi amor?”

He'd heard Reyes practice that accent for a week—it shouldn't have surprised him into a halt. He'd been called little endearments for the last few days as they tested what sounded good from the intel list of nicknames their clients used. He'd been sitting besides Reyes for the entire first leg of the journey, but it wasn't until that moment that all the little differences of the cover identities they'd assumed really hit Jesse.

The spirit putty they'd used to carefully fill in the scar-rents that'd marked Gabriel's face were gone, smoothed over into invisibility with concealer and smudge-resistant foundation. Even with just a week's notice, his hair had grown insanely fast when he'd stopped shaving it off, now brushed and slicked neatly to the side—a super soldier perk—or detriment—Jesse hadn't really appreciated until now, despite having seen Reyes trim his nails on a curiously frequent basis. Reyes both did and did not look like himself with all of those changes, didn't dress like himself in those understated designer-apparel clothes, didn't sound like himself with that accent and those words—but it was still Reyes in the way he smiled. Perhaps it was because it was framed by all the little familiar and unfamiliar changes, that it stood out in that moment for him.

It made Jesse stare, at a loss for words.

****************

That wasn't the reaction Gabriel had been expecting from McCree. The smile slipped from his face as his brows furrowed in concern. “Alejandro?” There was the lingering urge to say instead, _McCree?_

_Jesse?_

That shadow of a thought, not quite the familiar weight of ingrained habit that the name _McCree_ had, gave him pause. He shouldn't be surprised, given the week leading up to now. He worried he was becoming too familiar, overly familiar, with McCree—there was too much unspoken in whatever stood between them, and he didn't know what they were to one another. He didn't know what McCree wanted, in the end. He'd have to review and ask the other man about it, after this was all over.

McCree recovered at that point, smiling as he leaned forward to press a kiss to Gabriel's lips, one hand coming up to rest on the other's forearm, giving it a squeeze. “Never better, mi corazón. All ready.”

There was something...something in that smile that Gabriel couldn't quite place. That line of contemplation got put on hold by the kiss though—Gabriel knew he was a sucker for affectionate gestures like these, but _McCree_ didn't know. Or at least not yet. He'd deny being distracted by kisses if McCree ever wised up to that particular effect they had on him. It did make him smile just a bit at McCree though in spite of himself. But that fit with the character and situation they were playing with anyway.

They moved on to board their next flight, bound for picturesque Reykjavik. He was going to enjoy that pre-flight drink as a farewell toast to warm weather for the next few weeks, but he could handle the cold.

McCree was far less happy about the cold, of course, once they touched down some hours later and broke out their thicker, padded jackets with the soft fur lining. Strolling out into the main lobby to wait near the baggage claim area for their suitcases to arrive, McCree looked out the nearby glass windows gloomily. It was snowing faintly, painting a light, fresh coating of bluish white over the dull charcoal-color of dirt-slushed asphalt amidst piled snowbanks and safety traffic cones. He turned to look at Gabriel then.

“It will be a vacation, you said,” McCree said with a drawn out, long-suffering sigh, and a precise little dollop of an accusatory drawl as he looked Gabriel dead in the eye.

Gabriel had to hold his breath for a few seconds and let it out in a slow, controlled breath to try not to burst into laughter. It showed on his face though, he knew it for a fact. And he knew that McCree knew, and McCree knew that he knew that McCree knew, and so on and so forth. That evil twinkle in McCree's eyes said as much.

So naturally it went without saying that his mildly vindictive friend and associate continued without missing a beat in what was very clearly an attempt to break Gabriel's composure. “It will be _fun_ , you said.” McCree's genuine sarcasm still bled through just a little bit here and there for purposeful emphasis, melding with his cover accent seamlessly. A charmingly subtle, understated nudge to the tune of _Have I told you I hate undercover missions Reyes? Because I do._

And the fact that McCree hated cold weather went without saying—overtly, at any rate.

Gabriel cracked up, rolling back onto his heels, trying so hard to breathe properly, he had to gasp to draw air into his lungs.

McCree just gave him a wry look before elbowing him in the stomach a bit. “Laugh it up all you want Isaias, but when they find us as a pair of frozen icicles out in the snow, I will be the one having the last laugh.”

“We won't freeze, amor,” Gabriel said, still chuckling as his mirth subsided. “You'll make it out okay when all is said and done.”

“Tell that to my fingers, it is _cold_ even in here.” McCree was wearing gloves of course, but whenever the man went on a mission somewhere cold, he always complained about cold hands. Gabriel simply assumed it was a grudge against snow.

“Well come over here then and let me warm you up,” Gabriel said, unzipping the front of his coat and holding one half of it open in invitation.

“Feeling racy today are we Isaias, in broad daylight _and_ in public,” McCree drawled, but he did remove his gloves as he stepped closer, wrapping his arms around Gabriel's middle and burying his cold fingers into the nicely warmed layers with a content sigh. He tilted his head, letting it come to a rest on the other man's shoulder. “This does not absolve you from cake-promises, just so you know.”

“I wouldn't ever dream to assume such a thing,” Gabriel said mock-solemnly as he wrapped his coat around McCree, hugging the man snugly while keeping an eye out for their luggage to arrive. “Do you want me to feed you your cake while your hands continue their perpetual thawing out during the trip, your highness?”

This was poking the bear, he knew it. But never let it be said Gabriel Reyes shield from danger in the name of fun.

That made McCree look up at him with an incredibly dry look for a long, looooooong moment. “Do not mock royalty lest you should invoke our wrath, Isaias. We have a long memory for revenge and slights.” McCree had even layered on a little additional posh imitation accent on top of the other one he’d adopted for Alejandro's persona.

Said revenge was swift in coming, as Gabriel felt McCree's fingers hook the sides of his sweater and shirt up to press HELL-SENT ICE COLD FINGERS to Gabriel's unprotected bare skin, causing Gabriel's body to contort as he yelped. “Madre de dios! _How_ are your hands that cold!”

“What did I say about it being cold? It's cold, Isaias!”

“No really? And here I had thought your hands were burning with the heat of a thousand suns, my mistake,” Reyes said dryly, his sarcasm as evident as the dawn. “ _My_ hands are not that cold, and I'm not wearing gloves yet—are your gloves too thin?”

“All the more reason to hold your hand then, hm? Or your sides in this case.” That said, McCree still had his ridiculously cold hands on Gabriel's sides. How McCree managed to shoot or move his fingers at all in cold regions was a mystery to Gabriel, but he was making a note to emphasize McCree's preference for climate even moreso for any future missions he might have after this.

“You are an evil evil man and I will remember this.” Gabriel warned. McCree was going to get ice cold toes stuck against his back at the earliest opportunity, even if Gabriel had to stick his feet in a bucket of ice to do it.

McCree laughed, before pressing a sweet little kiss to Gabriel's lips. “I know. Thanks for putting up with me.”

An odd statement—Gabriel wasn't sure if that was just part of the act as Alejandro, or if there was perhaps some other underlying matter in those words. He tilted his head, resting his forehead lightly against McCree's, faintly concerned, hoping the other was okay. He did give McCree a small smile though, both part of the act of young lovers having a moment, but also with a thread of genuine emotion. “It's no trouble.” He meant it.

McCree hummed, relaxing a little bit into the embrace and the moment, before looking over his shoulder as the luggage claim conveyor belt began to fill up. “You see our suitcases? I want to get out of this airport and head to the hotel sooner rather than later. I don't care much for airports.”

“Yeah, I think I see yours. Come on, let's go.”

McCree didn't move just yet. “Uuuuuugh. I just got my hands warm too.”

“We can warm them on the car ride over. Cars have heaters, you know.”

“What! I have to rely on _plebeian_ methods of warming my hands? Where has my dedicated hand warming boyfriend gone to?”

Gabriel laughed. “Fine fine, let us put the car on autodrive, and I will devote myself to the utmost important task of warming your hands.”

McCree gave an evil chuckle as he withdrew his hands, smoothing down Gabriel's sweater absently before pulling his gloves back on and rubbing his hands together. “Yes, good, all part of my cunning plan to warm my hands, AND make sure you don't get us thrown out of the country on account of your driving skills.”

That of course had Gabriel drawing himself up with a faux-offended expression on his face. “How dare, I drive perfectly well.”

“There is this thing I don't think you were introduced to in driving school, Isaias, it's called the speed limit?”

“It's really more like a guideline than a _rule,_ Alejandro.”

“You are a menace to all when you sit behind the driver's wheel, and I deserve a medal for protecting the world from your speed demon ways.”

Now Gabriel just rolled his eyes, pulling McCree along towards their circulating bags. “I will be sure to schedule an award ceremony with a crowd of your adoring fans when we return then as a reward for your outstanding performance, Alejandro.” He smirked over his shoulder as he added, “With cake.”

“Dios mío, but I hate you sometimes,” McCree laughed, shoulder bumping Reyes' own fondly.

Reyes huffed a small laugh, wrapping an arm around McCree's shoulders and pressing a kiss to the other's temple. “Love you.”

That got a smile. “Love you too.”

****************

Jesse really did end up burying his hands in Reyes's coat again on the ride to the hotel. It was for the good of the world, and all of Reykjavik could breathe easier. It was dark out now, the sun having long since set with the winter's long nights curtailing its trek across the sky. The hotel itself was warm and bright, sleek and modern in its décor with clean and crisp lines in its interior decoration and tasteful colors chosen to be easy on the eyes. The room itself was actually smaller than he thought it'd be. The bed was certainly large enough for two men of their size, but there was far less floor space than he'd been expecting. Everything was much more compact, with just enough room between the furniture to allow easy navigation. There was just enough room to for one to walk between the foot of the bed and the cabinet, for example. They did have a small balcony they could step out onto, but who in their right minds would go outside onto a dinky little balcony when there was a perfectly warm room to stay inside instead? The size of the place did at least make it easy to sweep for surveillance bugs, and upon finding them, planting their own team's bugs in separate places.

Reyes left his suitcase in a corner to better hide one of their own bug locations, and promptly hopped onto the bed, laying himself out on one half and having a good stretch on it. He looked like a cat doing that. This was an exceptionally marvelous idea of the commander's, so Jesse followed suit—by flopping right on top of Reyes.

Reyes grunted in surprise. “Why are you flopping on me, there is a perfectly level and soft half of the bed right here.”

Jesse smirked, amused. “The bedsheets are cold.”

“Dios mio, but you are demanding when its cold out aren't you.” Reyes laughed, rubbing Jesse's arms as if to warm them. We can buy an electric blanket when we next go out then. Let me up and I'll go raise the thermostat.”

Jesse just hummed, the jetlag catching up to him a bit as he cracked a yawn. He might actually be so lucky as to sleep some hours that night, all things considered. He shifted a bit, making himself more comfortable on top of Reyes rather than actually getting up. “In a minute—it's fine for now. Just stay?”

“You say that now, but one minute will turn into thirty, and the room will be none the warmer for it, Alejandro.” Reyes said, tweaking Jesse's nose gently. “But very well. I'll stay.”

“Oh stop, you're doing that thing again.” Jesse grumbled, the corner of his mouth curling upwards playfully.

“What thing, Alejandro?” There was a note of patient amusement on Reyes' part.

“Being responsible and reasonable instead of being irresponsible and relaxing while whimsically doing whatever the hell you want. Plus the sheets are still cold.”

“We can cuddle more comfortably with a warmer room though,” Reyes said before he paused. “...I'm an idiot. I should just ask the front desk if they have electric blankets, or know where we can buy one. Room service can bring it up for us.”

“Tip them a king's ransom for it, with my profuse thanks.”

“I will. But I still need to get up to reach both the phone and the thermostat.”

Jesse groaned, and slid off to one side onto the cold blankets. He was deliberately going out of his way to play up the part of the spoiled boyfriend, with just a dash of petulant childishness to the mix. He had to wonder how people kept it up for long, it seemed like a lot of effort to do on the daily what could be done with far less wasted energy. It made him appreciate Reyes's practical approaches moreso, at that moment.

With the thermostat turned up to a more temperate degree and with the arrival of a warm, cozy electric blanket, Jesse was more than happy to breeze through his bedtime routines and flop right back into bed—with an extra pair of socks on his feet. This cold feet business was for the birds.

The extra pair of socks could not save him from the cold toes of revenge Reyes had in store for him. This was of course followed by screams of surprise, and pillow fighting. They eventually wound down for the night, curling up together in the middle of the bed, arms draped loosely across each other. It was a comfortable bed all in all, once it was properly warmed up. Reyes looked like he needed to sleep more than Jesse did, for all that the physical tells were subtle. Maybe they'd both get some needed shuteye to start this trip off easy, Jesse thought as he drifted off.

He felt the stirrings of consciousness trickle in some time later, and he could tell it was still dark out without opening his eyes—Reyjavik's weather forecast hadn't called for THAT much overcast cloud. Still night time then, likely the early hours of the morning, unless he missed his mark. He breathed a sigh, keeping his eyes closed to prolong the illusion of sleep for himself just a little bit longer. Falling asleep was never the problem for him, so much as it was the staying asleep part that he had trouble with when settling into a new sleeping place.

Speaking of new, there was a distinctly new absence of another body's warmth and weight in the bed beside him. Opening his eyes, he confirmed that Reyes was indeed out of bed—and that there was an extra blanket layer tucked in neatly and snug around his shoulders. Reyes was up being a busybody again it would seem, having gone to fetch another blanket apparently. Jesse sat up, casting about before spotting Reyes's silhouette out on the balcony, framed by the city street lights below.

Jesse hummed to himself, before rolling out of bed and reaching for his coat, and stuffing his feet into his boots. It was going to be _cold_ out there, compared to their warm bed. He missed it already.

Reyes turned his head at the sound of the sliding door, nodding to Jesse in greeting as the other man stepped out onto the balcony to join him. “Trouble sleeping?”

“Yeah. Jet lag, I'm sure.” Same old same old. Reyes knew the reason. “You?”

“Hm.” Reyes looked back out over the cityscape then, eyes lost in the distance. “Just a nightmare.”

Ah. Jesse had known Reyes had nightmares on occasion. Most people did, in Blackwatch, Overwatch, or anyone with a history serving in the armed forces really.

Jesse leaned against the railing, looking at the city below. “Want to talk about it, mi amor?”

Reyes leaned into Jesse then, resting his head on the other's shoulder, his face turned towards Jesse's own. “Just old ghosts. Nothing more. I didn't want to go back to sleep, just yet. You know how it goes.”

Ah. Memories then, probably. Jesse's money was on nightmares of the Omnic Crisis. He wrapped his arms around Reyes then, one hand coming up to stroke the other's hair and neck. “Anything I can do to help?” Jesse asked—the prospects seemed rather grim, but he still wanted to ask, even if he didn't think there was much of anything he could do. They couldn't talk about it in detail, not with both their own surveillance team listening in, on top of having to feed their target the false act of Isaias and Alejandro on vacation. But they could still talk around it well enough to communicate.

“This is enough,” was the soft reply.

It surprised Jesse enough that his hand paused mid-stoke for a moment's hesitation. He hadn't thought this would be helpful, let alone enough. And while he'd had plenty of time to comfortably fit the idea that a man like Gabriel Reyes, hero of the Omnic Crisis, was indeed at the end of the day _human,_ it still surprised him from time to time just how human he was. Reyes was always so in control of himself, he seemed invulnerable. Being a super soldier and commander added to that without a doubt. Jesse had seen Reyes relaxed, scars and hard edges softening when he let his guard down. Right here and now though, this seemed...vulnerable. He hadn't seen Reyes in a moment like this before. It was such a little thing, but it felt like so much more. He resumed stroking Reyes's hair, fingertips brushing against the other man's skin with a little more lingering than before.

Why did Reyes believe in him and trust in him so much?

If it had just been Jesse's aim and tactical skill that Reyes put his faith in Jesse for, that would have been easy to follow. But it was something more that Reyes believed in. The man was like one of the polar stars shining up overhead, a steady point of light to set your course by in the dark, at home in the nighttime sky, rather than the daylight. It was part of why Jesse followed him through thick and thin as readily as he did. He trusted Reyes. He wanted to believe, too—and he believed in Reyes.

After a time, Reyes spoke again. “Want to head back inside for a milk tea? You must be freezing.”

“You brought that milk tea?” McCree asked, mildly amused.

“A friend recommended that I bring it along, in case I needed help falling back to sleep.” Reyes responded, sounding like he was smiling—his words definitely had the _I brought them because Ana Strongly Suggested I do so_ ring to them, bless that woman's heart.

Jesse coughed a laugh. “Yeah, let's head in. I can't feel my toes as well as I'd like.”

“Is that the sound of impending revenge I hear?” Reyes asked mildly as he lifted his head and pulled Jesse along, back into the dark, welcoming warmth of their room.

“It very well may be, Isaias, it very well may be. It does lack a certain element of surprise if you are expecting it though.”

“I'll be sure to act very surprised should you decide to continue with your evil plans,” Reyes commented lightly, as if a person could appear as anything but surprised when assailed with ice cold feet.

“You just wait amor, I'll surprise you yet.”

The milk tea was quite pleasant—Ana always did have good taste in teas and coffee. More pleasant than that however was the two of them shedding their coats and boots, and piling back into bed. That electric blanket was worth its weight in gold, and he was going to steal that as a souvenir after the mission was done. The tea did its job rather well, and Jesse found himself drifting off into a light doze—not true sleep, but restful enough if it was the best he could get given the circumstances. Reyes's breathing slowed and evened out—a good sign that he at least was getting some actual few extra hours of shut eye in, even after the earlier nightmare. Jesse hoped Gabriel would have quieter nights as the mission went on, and he was almost too sleepy to catch the mental slip as consciousness faded away once more.

The next morning, their “vacationing” began in earnest, with breakfast in bed—omelettes on a bed of salad greens, a side of fresh cut fruit, sausage, cheese, oven-warm bread, and skyr served with granola. Coffee, of course, went without saying. The conversation over breakfast consisted of casual bickering over whether the skyr was technically a cheese or a yogurt. They both came to the satisfying agreement that it was gone, once they had finished off their portions of it. Then room service delivered a suspiciously serendipitous slice of spice cake. Reyes had an excellent poker face, but one look from Jesse had him cracking up and laughing. Jesse promptly gave Reyes a well-deserved shove off the bed and onto the floor.

Then came the window shopping for the rest of the morning. They spent a good few hours wandering the shops, making a concerted effort to buy things rather than simply skipping the shopping trip altogether—it was not a favorite past time of his, nor Reyes's. They ended up gathering a nice collection of souvenirs for their fellow Blackwatchers and Overwatchers alike, including some extra novelty items for laughs— _somebody_ was going to get a tiny little jar of hakarl for Christmas. Multiple somebodies, as it turned out. Jesse had no idea how the icelanders ate it, it smelled pretty bad as one would expect of fermented, rotten shark meat that'd been buried underground for half a year.

Then came lunch, a warm bowl of lamb soup with crusty bread and good, chilled beer. Not really luxury fare from the sound of it, but damn if it wasn't tasty. He had to drag a laughing Reyes away from the bakery next door that had little cute cakes on display in the window. After that, Reyes dragged him along to visit the hot springs—and promptly got his revenge for the earlier shove off the bed, by shoving Jesse into the deep end of the springs. Reyes had at least had the decency to wait until Jesse was in his swim trunks, for what that was worth. The two of them ended up plastering some of the complimentary servings of treated mud on Jesse's face for a facial—not Reyes's though, since they didn't want to chance disturbing the spirit gum covering up his scars. This did limit the opportunities for further retaliation at the springs, unfortunately, but Jesse was a patient man. There would be more chances.

It was a bit too late in the day to go out of town, so they whittled away the afternoon with, joy of joys, more window shopping. Dinner was by far the more upscale of the meals they'd had so far, with fish, lamb, and wild mushroom dishes that were more fancily dressed up than a bride at a wedding. The food was delicious, as was the wine, but looking at the price tags did make Jesse internally whistle to himself. The fish was good, but hoo boy he was glad he wasn't paying for all that. Simpler foods like the lamb stew or breakfast yogurt (he was sticking to the assertion it was yogurt) were more his speed.

The days continued in an uneventful manner, with more excursions to go out hiking and see scenic vistas, take selfies in front of waterfalls, going out on the water for whale watching, and mixing in the occasional late night at the club scene to keep up the illusion of who they were pretending to be. It all kind of blurred together after a while, with a general lull settling over it all for Jesse.

It hit him hardest on one of those late nights out at one of the clubs. It was a world away from the nightlife he had once frequented with his fellow gang members back in the Deadlock days, but there was a palpable overhanging film to it all that was well-worn and familiar.

This was the kind of scene he could often find himself in, neon pink and highlight-red lights skating silhouettes like glancing touches of warm hands across the edge of bodies, backed against the other cold side of absence of touch in the bright blue lights that carved out the other side of the crowd's figures inside the club. It was perhaps more fitting to say it was a scene he had often _lost_ himself in back in the past, using the music and the ambiance as a dilution to cut the burning poison in his soul and veins. Cut it sweet and cut it soft, with some pretty woman's smile or a handsome stranger's inviting laugh. All his choices were poisons in their own right, be it smokes, whiskey, or a welcoming pair of arms for the night, but the cocktail they mixed up was better together and easier to down instead of drinking the rotting sense of decay that lingered if he didn't try to drown it out with other things added to the mix. The sensation was like the tang of bitter acrid black-smoke, and he felt like crumbling cinders being eaten away at by licks of flame that followed him long after the firefights had died out. It's always off the battlefield these feelings found him, when the adrenaline was down and he'd had time to come to terms with the fact that he was still alive in this godawful world. For all the good that still was in it, this world was wasted on him with all the poison he'd seen and ingested, and for the life of him he can't get it out of his system now. The memories and knowledge would kill him long before the cigars ever did if he didn't have something to cut the phantom sting out of those bitter wormwood thoughts, no matter what Dr. Ziegler said.

He's not off the clock though. He's on duty, even if he's pretending not to have a care in the world as Alejandro.

This was why he didn't like undercover missions—pretending to be someone else for too long brought out the ashen taste of how he pretended to be himself all too often—pretended to be a better version of himself that was okay and not cracked and scorched and brittle with rot all the way through. He felt like a liar—that he himself was a lie. He didn't like facing the fact that he didn't much like himself at times, didn't like all the things he'd done or been through, and that sometimes he wished he was somebody else. Wished he cared less, so it'd all just go away. Wished he really believed all the way through, that things could get better. That _he_ could get better. He tried to. God almighty above, but he tried to. He acted like he did, putting in the effort and trying to set his compass by it, but he'd be lying if he said there wasn't a world-weary feeling of a sore old taxed heart under there that didn't have it in it to hope for real, in times like this.

He was tired now. Too tired to bother with nullifying poisons that would ease the toxins in his bones and his soul. He offered a glance to where Reyes was situated near the bar, chatting up some other patrons. Reyes looked back over to him, as if he could feel the gaze the way one could hear a name called, and nodded in understanding when Jesse held up two fingers near his mouth to indicate a smoke break outside.

That was all he needed to free himself, just for a little while. It wouldn't be enough—was it ever enough? But it was what he could get. He stepped out onto the outdoor patio, near a heater where the flames would let him stay warm enough to allow some false semblance of rest, a faking act to see if he could trick himself into feeling better, less stretched out, less sick to his soul, out here on his own.

****************

Gabriel came out shortly thereafter, not five minutes later from their little exchange across the room, his pace nonchalant as he took up the space at the railing beside McCree. The way McCree was leaning on the railing with his arms crossed, looking out over the snow-edged, swept city road with its passing cars and the faded warm glow of street lamps like he was a thousand miles away...

He's seen that look before, on McCree and a hundred other faces.

“Hey. Everything alright?” A little shoulder bump, just to check that McCree was still there. If he was coming back anytime soon, or needed to split.

McCree's smile was made of paper-thin nighttime shadows left scattered on the corners of buildings and the mouth of alleyways, splintered and shaved to translucent waning from six different street light sources. It was like a faded moment of an impromptu picture saved in passing on one's phone, without preparation, without thought, burned into memory. It was unremarkable in how muted it looked, but that was what made it stand out among McCree's numerous stable of smiles that all said a hundred different things about the man's mood when McCree wasn't playing with his poker face on.

“Yeah. Just taking a breather.”

Gabriel should just take those words at face value, but...that smile.

They both know it's a lie. He'll wait though—McCree always preferred rumination and time to unpack whatever was going on in his head when it wasn't active involvement with mission objectives. This wasn't a good environment for McCree to relax in though, with the club music and lights wafting out through the glass windows behind them. Gabriel had seen this happen often enough to know McCree liked finding quiet places with less people, and this patio was quite obviously not far enough or quiet enough to count.

“Want to get out of here? Call it a night?”

McCree's gaze went back out to the distance, looking at the sleepily closed shops across the street without really seeing them. “Yeah. I'd rather be somewhere else. Don't really want to go back to the hotel. You mind?”

Gabriel shook his head. “I don't mind.” He pulled out his phone for a brief moment to make a quick internet search, before turning back to McCree. “I have an idea for that, if you want to give it a whirl.”

McCree didn't respond for a moment, before pushing off the railing and straightening up. “Yeah, alright. Let's go then.”

They grabbed their coats and headed out, slipping into their rented hover car.

It was rather concerning that McCree didn't even make a token effort to protest Gabriel's driving, simply sitting and staring out over the passing view through the side window. The city lights dimmed behind them as they drove out past the city limits, turning off the main road to take a less used road down to a small secluded lake, far enough from the city for the night sky to darken behind the slow dancing ribbons of glowing green overhead.

That made McCree stare, watching it with a much more engaged look in his eye than before, situated firmly in the here and now, rather than in that far off somewhere inside his head. Gabriel smiled just a bit as he parked the car, looking out through the windshield at the lights winding through the clouds and stars.

“It's beautiful.” McCree commented.

“Yeah.”

They sat in silence for a long time, just watching the aurora borealis overhead.

At length, McCree eventually shifted, turning to look at Gabriel out of the corner of his eye. “Thanks for bringing me out here, Isaias.”

“Anytime, mi amor.”

McCree turned back to look at the lights in the sky for a long moment, before he spoke again. “Let's step out and get a better look at them.”

That surprised Gabriel enough to turn all the way to give McCree a stunned look. It was _freezing_ outside, on top of being even colder on account of it being nighttime and their being next to a lake. The car's interior they could keep comfortably warm with the heater at least. Why would McCree want to go outside? He hated the cold.

An idea occurred to Gabriel then—if they were outside, they could speak in privacy, if they turned their wires off for a moment. Was that what McCree wanted...? It seemed unlikely McCree wanted to just stand outside, but stranger things had happened.

“Alright, let's go.” There was a doubtful note in Gabriel's voice, but he opened the door and stepped out into the snow without hesitation, breath steaming in white clouds as he walked with McCree down along the shoreline, to the nearest copse of trees.

****************

Taking his earpiece out and pocketing it, Jesse turned to Reyes, watching as the other man did the same. “Hey Reyes?”

“Yeah?”

“Why did you give me a chance that day after the raid?”

Reyes got a perfectly mystified look on his face that at any other time, Jesse would've cracked up at. He didn't really have the heart to laugh at it now though.

“I told you. You have potential to be so much more than just that. And you've proven that tenfold time and time again since then, Jesse.”

The use of his given name made something falter in Jesse's chest for a moment—like having an arterial block removed. It seemed a little bit easier to breathe, even though that still didn't feel like an answer he could truly _understand._ He looked away, shaking his head for a moment, before looking back to Reyes. “But what'd you see in me, that made me the one you gave that chance to? I wasn't any better than the rest. What made me different?”

Reyes tilted his head, dark eyes regarding McCree with that eerily precise sense of focus that followed whenever Reyes was analyzing a situation on the war table. “That look you had back at the club. You know about that?”

“Yeah. I space out sometimes like that,” McCree said with a wave of his hand. It was a thousand yard stare, he knew—he hadn't seen war like Reyes had, but he'd seen enough combat and dark dealings to rack up plenty of demons and ghosts of his own for a haunting. “A lot of others have moments like that too, back at base.”

“The others we brought in weren't bothered the way you were with the things Deadlock’s done. Some of them were bothered on some level deep down, but good luck digging down far enough to get them to admit it. I could've offered them the same chance, but I would bet odds-against that they'd have taken it, or done well with the opportunity. You listened, and were open to the possibility. You were willing to consider, and to try, and that difference is enormous, Jesse.” Reyes explained.

Jesse looked out over the water, ruminating. He hadn't shown much on his face at the time of that first interrogation with Reyes. But some people didn't need much to get a read on a person—the devil was in the details, and his name was Gabriel Reyes.

“Why is just that willingness enough to be good?” He asked, voice soft and low in the cold air.

“Because not all the people who can do something _will_ do something. And the people who are willing can find a way to do what needs to be done. That's what makes us Overwatch. It's why we're Blackwatch.” Reyes said.

There went Reyes once again, Jesse thought as he tilted his head up to search the skies overhead. There, Polaris. The north star. He looked to Reyes again—Blackwatch's north star. His north star. He'd originally assumed himself as some vagabond, wandering through the dark night in that metaphor, following the stars and hoping against overcast clouds...but now he wondered if Reyes would think of them all as stars and constellations instead, in that metaphor.

“You're a good man, Jesse,” Reyes continued. “No one is solely defined by what they have done in the past—and you've done a lot of good as well in the past and now, I would like to add. You're still moving forward with the intent of making this world a better place than it was, and that's commendable. Even if you put that burden down right now, and walked away from all of this, you'd still be a good man, Jesse.”

“I—what.” Jesse squinted at Reyes, suddenly feeling like he was missing something, a hint in Reyes's words about...something.

“I was going to put this off until after the mission but,” Reyes paused as their phones both buzzed simultaneously: a warning text message from their surveillance team. Trouble was arriving in t-minus five minutes—the conversation would have to wait. The two wasted no time pulling out their concealed side arms and replacing their ear pieces, checking that the comms were live. Given their cover, all they could carry were standard issue handguns, not what either of them preferred, but they would serve. They split up, Reyes vanishing into the dark trees with alarming speed, and McCree taking cover behind a thick screen of evergreen trees. Screwing in his silencer, McCree took a breath, peering through the branches to watch the area where they'd parked.

It wasn't long before two black SUVs pulled up to a quick, abrupt stop beside their car, and eight men in dark coats piled out. They searched the rented vehicle, before scattering to seek out their intended targets.

Reyes's voice came to life over their comms, murmuring low and calm, “I've got eyes on the target, he's by the car with two guards standing by. Take out the other five on the shore, I'll close and get the three next to the cars. We'll take the brother alive. Flatten the car tires if I misstep.”

“Roger that,” McCree said, adjusting his grip on the side arm—it was so much smaller and lighter than Peacekeeper. He didn't like the lack of heft to it, but it'd do. Adrenaline was thrumming through his veins, and he welcomed it like an old friend—he'd be lying if he said he didn't miss this.

It was part of why he doubted at times that he was good.

He stepped clear of the evergreens just enough to clear his line of sight for the five on the shore, taking a moment to focus. A shout went up—he'd been spotted. But that time was all he needed—five shots rang out in quick succession, and five bodies hit the ground shortly after.

He snorted to himself. Like shooting fish in a barrel—these men hadn't been expecting armed, highly trained specialists, and they had paid the price for their lack of preparation.

Reyes's assault was swift on the heels of McCree's sweep, appearing from around the car all too close to the guards, putting a bullet in the first one's chest from point blank range, and another bullet through the second one's head before he'd done more than reached for his gun mid-step. He lunged then for the last man standing, bringing the butt of his gun down hard against the side of the man's head and knocking him clean off his feet.

McCree _almost_ winced in sympathy. Almost. But that'd require having sympathy for the fallen man. “All clear here. Five kills confirmed.”

“Clear. Two killed, target out cold.” Reyes at that point pulled out a pair of handcuffs, proceeding to cuff the now unconscious man on the ground.

McCree walked closer, texting to their surveillance team about sending in a cleanup crew for the bodies and cars and hitting send before looking over and raising an eyebrow. “Handcuffs? The gun I can see you explaining away with Isaias's background, but what would you have said if someone had asked why you were carrying handcuffs?”

Reyes just turned to look at McCree with a dry smirk. “That my boyfriend looks good in handcuffs.”

That made McCree stop short in appreciation. “...oh that was good.”

“Thank you, I try.” Reyes said, looking pleased.

They hefted their new tag-along into the back seat of one of their new SUVs after he was trussed, gagged, and blindfolded properly, swept clean the electronic bugs from their car—and then McCree wrapped a hand around Reyes's arm, removing his own comms unit once again. “What was it you were going to tell me, before we were interrupted?”

Reyes looked at him then for a moment, shutting the car door and moving both he and McCree far enough away to converse safely before he turned about to face McCree fully. “You've accumulated an impressive work record that I would consider beyond reproach, and if you want, we can transfer you to an official Overwatch unit with commendations.”

And just like that the world snapped out of its moorings in how Jesse McCree understood it to work. “What? Wait, wait, what's this all about? Where'd this talk of transferring come from?”

“You've given much to Blackwatch, Overwatch, and the world in your efforts, Jesse.” There was something both distinctly personal and yet distantly professional in how Reyes spoke to him then. “Some of the missions you've carried out for us have taken a heavier toll on you compared to other ops. You seem to do consistently well in the aftermath of the missions where we collaborate with Overwatch units, it would likely be easier on you morally and mentally in the long run to work with them.”

Jesse's face went through a rather interesting series of expressions then, from blank incomprehension, to incredulity, to a flat look of disbelief, and then finally to something inscrutable. “You know you could just tell a guy if something's awkward or not working out when dating, Reyes. I can take it like an adult and be mature about it.” Now he was just deadpanning at Reyes, making light of the situation, but also fishing for information on Reyes's motives.

“Jesse McCree I am insulted you think I would abuse my rank like that. Obviously if I was going to do something quite so childish as that, I would have sent you a fruit basket first before stationing you in some warm sunny post near a beach.”

“Now you're just trying to bribe me into being where I don't want to be, Reyes.”

“But it'd be warm and sunny. And I promise it'd be a fruit basket full of the best snacks, directly from the snack stash closet.”

Jesse just rolled his head back, looking up at the sky again with a long-suffering sigh. “...look, I appreciate you offering me an out. I really do.” He looked Reyes in the eyes as he said that, truly meaning it in all his sincerity. “But Overwatch isn't where I want to be. You know?”

“We could process you out to civilian life too, just so you know. It'd take time, but the option's out there.” Reyes offered.

It was a novel thought. He hadn't considered Blackwatch to be something he could just up and leave, much the same as Deadlock had been—once you were in, you were in for life. Leaving a life like that was something others could do, that other Blackwatchers might be able to do, but he hadn't thought it could apply to him, both because of who he was, and because of various binding _considerations_. Considerations such as the Deadlock gang culture of once a Deadlock always a Deadlock, and in Blackwatch because of how he'd been recruited.

It'd gotten easier the more he worked with Reyes, feeling less and less like Deadlock, and more like something new, something better. That Gabriel was willing to let him go...meant a lot to him. It was easier to hope, simply because it felt like there were more possibilities. “Overwatch does good work, but I do best in Blackwatch as it is. I'm not really as good a man as the shining knights in white armor have to be in Overwatch proper,” He held up a hand to forestall Reyes's forthcoming disagreement, “But I'm not bad, either. Think I fit just fine in the gray lines in between, right here with you and the others. You get me?”

He knew Reyes did. In that, they were alike. It was why he could believe in Reyes, and why Reyes believing in him struck home so much more deeply than it would have coming from another.

The possibility that Jesse might want to stay had crossed his mind, but for the sake of trying to be as impartial as possible to allow Jesse to make whatever choice he wanted, Gabriel Reyes had turned a blind eye to that possibility. He had on a level been hoping Jesse would go, so that he could be somewhere and be entirely there, without falling into that thousand yard stare full of ghosts and memories haunting him, and simply be okay. As okay as people could be in their line of work, of course. Overwatch's work was not without its own risks, much like Blackwatch, but Blackwatch was _Blackwatch_ , they took on an entirely different kind of work than Overwatch's main units. Such was the nature of covert ops, even in service to the greater good.

“I get you,” Gabriel said, voice lacking any edge whatsoever as he had not yet accepted the idea that Jesse was truly staying. They all had to leave Blackwatch one day, himself included. That was life, after all.

“But the option remains open indefinitely, for whenever you might want to move on. You get?” He said, looking Jesse carefully in the eye. “So if you think about it and change your mind any time and want out, let me know. Okay, Jesse?”

Jesse gave him that crooked grin, back to the same old same old of how they always were. “Yeah. Thanks Reyes. I appreciate it. And you're going to let me know if you ever want to bail too, right? We can make it a going-away vacation if you want—I'm picking where we're going though.”

Gabriel laughed. The sound was a little reserved, but he was starting to thaw a bit to the reality that Jesse had made his decision, and had chosen to stay for the foreseeable future. “Yeah. You alright then? You hit the mental brick wall pretty hard back there in the club.”

Jesse sighed a bit, rolling his shoulders back to stretch them. “Self perception stuff, is all. It's a work in progress.” He gave Gabriel a meaningful look. “You help me out with that a lot, you know?”

“If it makes your life easier, than I'm glad.”

Jesse smiled in response, a warmer smile that was all mild summer sunshine, blue skies and white clouds. That smile from Jesse made Gabriel lose his train of thought then, and he simply looked at the other man then, at a loss for words in that moment in time.

“I know I'm saying this a lot right now, but I appreciate that Reyes. Really I do. And I want to say, I appreciate you. You know that?”

Now that made Gabriel smile. “I appreciate you too.”

And then suddenly they were the both of them a pair of dorks grinning silly grins at each other, not quite knowing what to say next.

Jesse finally looked down, clearing his throat for theatric effect. “So. On to a more important question, then.”

“About whether or not we continue kissing each other now that the mission is over?” Gabriel asked dryly, really hoping he was right in his guess otherwise he just spoiled the nice touching moment, just a little.

Jesse grinned, tapping the side of his head with a wink. “Great minds think alike. I'm all for it, are you?”

Gabriel adopted a thoughtful expression then. “Hm, I don't know about that. I might need us to give it a trial run to see if I like it, if you know what I mean.” His gaze slid over to meet Jesse's then, a teasing smirk curling the corners of his mouth upwards.

“Well who am I to deny a man quality assurance in this instance?” Jesse said. He was pleased with this, in all honesty. He'd been in a few relationships before, but not with anyone like Gabriel. This whole possible relationship was a horse of a different color entirely. Taking it slow suited him just fine, it'd give them time to sort out how to manage their relationship, and get to know each other better than they already did.

“If we're talking quality assurance, come over here and kiss me without the excuse of the mission priority hanging over our heads then, hm?”

Jesse laughed and leaned in, wrapping an arm around Gabriel's neck to hold him steady as he kissed him hard and long enough to see stars even with their eyes closed. They parted from the kiss but not the embrace, both of them breathing just a little bit harder with laughter on their breath as they stood together like a pair of lovestruck teenagers. “So does this mean I can call you Gabriel, or is that something I should wait to do until the third date?”

“I'm fine with it. You could've called me Gabriel before now and I wouldn't have minded, it just didn't occur to me to say so.” Gabriel said, giving Jesse a playful little forehead bump.

“Oh now I just feel like I've been missing out. Why didn't you call me Jesse more often, if you don't mind my asking?”

“Because McCree is fun to say, and you called me Reyes, so it was matchies,” Gabriel said with a shrug, before grinning.

Jesse had the absolute most deadpan look on his face at that. “You, sir, are a nerd, mister Gabriel Reyes.” He kissed Gabriel then, smiling. Then the smile turned into something mischievous. “Can I call you Gabe?”

Gabriel was understandably suspicious at the change in Jesse's expression. “You can...but why that face?”

Jesse's Evil Smirk™ deepened. “Can I call you Gabey Baby?”

“I'm finding the next slice of cake and smooshing it into your face if you do that, Jesse.”

Jesse laughed. “Alright alright, I'll work on the romantic nicknames then, sugar.”

“You go through all the build up of finally calling me Gabriel, and you immediately decide to go with nicknames instead. I feel so betrayed by this plot twist.”

“Says the man who was all set to kick me out of Blackwatch without so much as a _bye and thanks for the memories_ hallmark card. Way to make a guy feel like he's not welcome.” Jesse said with a little play huff.

“Hey now, you are a valued member of Blackwatch and a dear friend, you would have been missed greatly. Your relationships should be helping you build towards a better tomorrow, not holding you back, you know?”

“Yeah, I get. Thanks, Gabriel.”

“Anytime, Jesse.”

“...so, wanna jump back in our car and watch the stars a bit more? We could film the aurora for the folks back home to look at. Plus I'm freezing.”

“Yeah, me too honestly. Want to get late night junk food after? I can't decide on if I want an icelandic lamb hot dog or fresh hot pizza more.” Gabriel asked as they started walking back to their car.

“Why not both? Both is good—although,” Jesse made a wistful face then, “there are also those kebabs and grilled subs we had a few nights ago. It's hard to pick just one, isn't it.”

“Hell, let's get a little bit of everything and split it. We didn't eat much at dinner anyway.”

“This is a good plan. We're also handing our new friend over to the extraction team and waiting out the clock for the rest of our vacation time, right? We haven't been to that cathedral, what's it called?”

“I know which one you mean, but I'm not going to try to say that name right now, it's too late at night to mangle another language,” Gabriel said with a wave of his hand as they slid back into the welcoming interior of their car and started the heater once again. “Come cuddle?”

“Don't need to ask me twice.” Jesse chuckled as he scooted along the front seat to wrap an arm around Gabriel as Gabriel wrapped an arm around Jesse. The two of them settled in then to enjoy the warmth of the heater and of each other's company, watching the stars wheel overhead as the Aurora Borealis danced against the black backdrop of the dark night sky.

****************

End.

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas and happy holidays necrophililac!! :D I hope the fic was a pleasant read for you with warm fuzzies in the spirit of the holidays! :D ♥ I had a lot of fun writing this, though it did end up taking a lot longer than I was expecting—I thought the fic would be shorter. x'D Anyway, have a nice day and happy celebrating! :D ♥
> 
> And many thanks and happy holidays to our wonderful mods Smarsh, Carith, and Darkforetold for organizing and running this secret santa exchange! :D ♥


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